


Drunken Sailor

by Yangry



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, first time writing for rvb, hopefully will be a multichapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3462326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yangry/pseuds/Yangry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker and Church work at a bar in a small seaside town. When Washington, a man who moved to the town recently becomes a customer, Tucker can't help but notice how miserable he looks. And, very grudgingly, Tucker wants to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Sailor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Again, this is my first time writing for RvB. If any of the cast seem OOC, do not hesitate to comment and tell me how I can improve on it.

It was a Thursday night. 

The pub was fairly full, though Tucker guessed everyone would be long gone by closing hour. Tucker looked outside the windows, and through the panes that weren't coloured glass, he could see it was hazy outside, the clouds simply a long grey carpet over the sky, threatening rain. Tucker let out a sigh; he was walking home that night, and it would totally suck if it rained. He and Church would be working until eleven, and it was a good twenty minute walk back up to his apartment, where his son Junior was with Simmons babysitting and Grif tagging along, probably raiding his fridge or something. Tucker knew he could never trust Grif to take care of Junior, though he was sure Simmons would keep both Grif and Junior in check. He did feel sorry for him, though- Grif could be a handful. 

The door of the pub opened, and Tucker looked up idly, only to frown at the new arrival. He wore a long jacket, with a scarf and hiking boots. He had blond hair, grey at the sides and a tiredness in his eyes even though otherwise, he looked in his mid thirties, roughly having around ten years on Tucker. He slumped over to the bar, and addressed him with a monotone voice. 

“Could I have a beer, please?” 

Tucker took a second, taking the man in. but then replied. 

“Half-pint or a pint?”

“Pint, please.” He replied

“What kind?”

“Uh...” the man blinked, unsure. “I don’t mind.” 

Tucker nodded, and went to get him a drink. He served it to him, trying to remain friendly. 

“Here you are. That’ll be $2.95.” 

The man searched in his wallet, and handed him three dollar notes. “Keep the change.” He mumbled, before taking his beer and drinking deeply. 

“Uh, right.” Tucker frowned again and stuffed the notes into the cash register. He went on to serve a few more customers, but only five minutes later he looked back and saw the guy buying another drink from Church, before Church left to get a cloth and the man was left chugging another beer as if it were water. 

“Hey, Church, what the fuck’s up with that guy?” Tucker whispered, trying to grab his co-workers attention and point at the guy in question discretely. Church, who’d started wiping down the counter, looked round at him with exasperation. 

“No, Tucker I don’t know what the fuck is up with him. He’s new in town, that’s all I know.”

“You know his name?” 

“No. Why don’t you ask him?” Church rolled his eyes. “You know, considering that in this tiny-ass town you didn’t realize someone moved in.” 

“Hey, I’ve been busy with Junior. He started school last week!”

Church sighed. “Right. So, why are you so bothered about the dude?”

“Well, he’s cute, but also looks like his entire family just died and he’s downing beer like their shots.” 

“Well, go cheer him up or some shit. Hook up. I don’t care.” Church said indifferently. 

“Sure, Church. I’ll work some of that Lavernius Tucker magic on him, eh? Bow chicka bow wow!” 

“You are such a dumbass.” Church rolled his eyes and threw his cloth onto the shelf behind him. Tucker winked in his general direction before swaggering off to the man and greeting him energetically.

“Yell-o! Sorry I didn’t notice earlier, but I realized your new in town! Can I have your name?” The man looked up with a face like thunder. Tucker scratched the back of his neck nervously, waiting for a reply. 

“Washington.” 

“Uh, right... First name?” Tucker asked, but the man simply stared at him. “OK, yeah, that’s cool. Washington. I like it. Has a ring to it.” 

“Right.” Washington looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Anything else?” 

“Well, I was just wondering if you’re OK. Do you know anyone in this town? A relative?” 

“No.”

“Right, well, I can give you my number in case you need anything.” Tucker offered 

“I think I’ll be alright.” Washington rolled his eyes, returning to his drink, and the awkwardness practically drove Tucker back to Church. 

“Miserable, fucking asshole.” He grumbled. Church laughed. 

“Well, maybe the guy with his own personal storm cloud wasn’t the best idea for a potential date.”

“Ugh.” Tucker groaned. “Well, fuck ‘im. I have plenty of other chances for dates.” 

“Oh, so you didn’t go over because of the goodness in your heart?”

“Pfft, no, have you met me?” Tucker joked. 

“Sadly.” 

“Oh, don’t be like that, no one can resist a little Tucker.” He grinned. 

“It’s honestly not that hard.” Church scoffed. “Now get back to work.”

* * *

 

The bar closed at around 11, and Church had to tell Washington, the last person left, to leave. With a sigh, Washington headed out as Tucker started clean up. After everything was locked up, both Church and Tucker started walking home. Much to Tucker's appreciation, it hadn't rained, so he could walk home cold yet dry.

 

"What _do_ you think was up with that guy?" Tucker asked, as if making idle conversation.

"I don't know, but we've got to utilize that power. I mean, if looks could kill, we'd all be dead." Church smirked.

"Yeah, yeah, but you don't think anything happened? Like-"

"Maybe he ran to this town to escape his deep and troubled past?" Church snorted. "Jesus, you are a romantic."

"Oh, fuck you, Church. I was just wondering." Tucker snarled.

"Right, lover boy, I got you. Is this the end of the conversation about Mr. Misery?"

"Uh huh."

"Good." There was a little bit of quiet, before Church started speaking again.

"How's Junior holding up on his first week of school?"

"Pretty good. He keeps bringing back loads of paintings and my fridge is now a God-damn art gallery." Tucker smiled. "He looks upon that fridge as if it were his pride and joy."

"Well, he should. He just opened up an art gallery with food inside." Church suddenly snapped his head forward , very fake and dramatic. "Fuck, he's been getting ideas from Grif."

"Don't worry, I'll be kicking him out of my apartment as soon as I get back. Though honestly, why he has to tag along with Simmons is beyond me."

"The newly-weds must stick together at all times. Seriously, all they do is either bicker or sleep together."

"Bow chicka bow-"

"No, not like that. Well, they _could_ be, we just don't know." Church pulled a face. "I don't really want to think about that."

"Dude, we just talked about Grif and Simmons banging-"

"We didn't."

"But-"

"We. Did. Not." Church said finally, and they spent the next two minutes in silence, Church trying his best to look deadpan while Tucker giggled like a child. 

* * *

Church said goodbye when Tucker reached his apartment, and when he opened the door, to his displeasure, he found Grif and Simmons passed out on his sofa. 

“Hey, idiots, wake up.” Tucker walked over and nudged Simmons, since it was going to take a lot more than that to get Grif up.

“Huh? Oh, you’re back.” Simmons rubbed his eyes wearily. “Uh, Junior’s asleep. Grif ordered pizza but we only gave him one slice.” 

“What kind of pizza was it?” 

“Um, five cheese.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Tucker put his head in his hands. “Whatever, just wake up your damn boyfriend.” 

“We’re not-” 

“I know, I know, just wake him up before I kick him off the sofa.” 

Tucker went to check on Junior while Simmons slapped Grif in the face repeatedly until his started to stir. 

" Ugh, what time is it?” 

“Time to go home. Thanks for taking care of Junior, Simmons.” Tucker told them quietly, shutting Junior’s bedroom door behind him. 

“What about me?” Grif folded his arms, thankfully hiding some of the grease and pizza stains on his t-shirt

“Depends. Did you use the money I left you guys to buy that pizza?” 

“Uh...” Grif considered it for a moment. “I’ll pay you back?” 

“Yeah, this was a one man job.” 

Tucker looked in his wallet and then passed Simmons a ten dollar note. “Thanks, man.” 

“No problem. We’re going now, Grif.” Simmons got up and dragged the shorter man out of the door. When they were both gone, Tucker sighed and threw himself into bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes, and though he was so tired, he couldn’t seem to drift off all that easily. 

Washington, that miserable fucking asshole, was a miserable fucking asshole for a reason, right? 

With a sigh, Tucker rolled onto his side. Because now, almost involuntarily, he wanted to find out why. 


End file.
